


Meet the Parents

by birdcages7



Series: For Life [4]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Class Differences, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Family Drama, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Smoking, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdcages7/pseuds/birdcages7
Summary: After being let in and finding a place to park amongst all the BMWs, Mercedes, Porches and even a Rolls or two, Billy stayed in his car for a cigarette. Reminded himself why he was even at this crazy place.Steve had invited him. Of course. Not that Steve wanted to come, he’d made it very clear how much he hated these things but he only attended for one reason. It was the only time of year he got to see both of his parents in the same room. They weren’t divorced but apparently may as well have been years ago, back when Steve was barely a teenager. Really, Steve didn’t paint the best picture of his parents from the little he talked about them, but then neither did Billy about his own.***Part Four: Billy meets the parents
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: For Life [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1870363
Comments: 9
Kudos: 107





	Meet the Parents

The annual Christmas function at the country club was, apparently, a big deal. Strictly invitations only that were sent out in July to some of the state’s highest of flyers. Business owners, career politicians, trophy wives. A quote unquote party dripping in tradition and excess. A true show off affair where it was clearly who you knew that determined if you were worthy of even a second glance by guests in ballgowns and pristine suits bought just for the occasion to never be worn again.

The venue itself was a sprawling thousand acre estate. Perfectly green grass cut to the exact millimeter. Large hedges and ferns with topiary shaped into different animals that groundskeepers would have to upkeep daily to maintain the intricacy. The building itself right in the middle of a seeming ocean of land was an old manor house, kept away from the street and other less worthy members of the public by a long gravel driveway lined with small lights buried in the ground. Behind the house was a golf course. In front though was a water fountain, lit in green and red for the season. Clearly it had good intentions but the colour choices made the statue in the middle, a naked woman wrapped in a piece of fabric holding a jug on one shoulder, look a little demonic in the face.

Billy had never felt more out of place before. Never. Getting looked over at the tall iron gates by a  _ boy _ in a red vest and black pants, a  _ boy _ that looked down on him and his camaro that clearly didn’t fit in with the aesthetics of the place. A  _ boy _ that checked and double checked Billy's invitation like he had the time to make a forgery between being elbow deep in the guts of a Ford Mustang and performing, on average, three oil changes a day.

This was going to be a long night.

After being let in and finding a place to park amongst all the BMWs, Mercedes, Porches and even a Rolls or two, Billy stayed in his car for a cigarette. Reminded himself why he was even at this crazy place.

Steve had invited him. Of course. Not that Steve wanted to come, he’d made it very clear how much he hated these things but he only attended for one reason. It was the only time of year he got to see both of his parents in the same room. They weren’t divorced but apparently may as well have been years ago, back when Steve was barely a teenager. Really, Steve didn’t paint the best picture of his parents from the little he talked about them, but then neither did Billy about his own.

How do you use nice words to describe a mother that abandoned you and a father that beat you?

It was important to Steve that his parents met Billy at least once since their relationship was serious now. So here he was, dressed up in the only suit he owned that he’d had to buy for a funeral. He’d made a real effort; hidden away his usual pendant necklace that never came off under a brand new shirt with all its buttons done up to his neck so he felt almost choked, managed to work some magic on his hair, tied it back so it didn’t look too  _ mulletey _ , because apparently that wasn’t a thing rich people liked according to his fellow wrench monkey coworkers. Adorned the whole look with a black tie like a somber present ready to be picked apart.

He felt like a penguin. A penguin that had somehow wandered into the middle of a high society ball just because someone had promised a fish at the end.

Steve hadn’t promised a fish. But it was important to him, so Billy was going to try. He did debate another cigarette though before thinking again and tucking it back into the pack, leaving the safety of his car and heading for the main entrance. Light pooled warm and golden from large floor to ceiling windows. People were gathered in little groups inside. All of them looked like they belonged. Belonged under the great chandelier that hung from the ceiling, belonged in front of possibly the biggest christmas tree Billy had ever seen tucked into the corner and covered in lights and gold ornaments. None of them were penguins. They were just waiting for the wild animal to entertain them. He sighed and reminded himself, again, why he was doing this. 

It was important to Steve. And Billy was just stupid enough to love him. So it had to be important to him too.

The man himself was waiting just inside the door. Billy had seen him in suits many times now, but they had all been for work. This current one was clearly something special. A deep royal blue, perfectly tailored for his frame, with a thin matching piano tie and shiny brown oxfords. His usual hairstyle slicked back but not too shiny with product. Steve looked like he belonged, he did in many ways. He had this amazing ability to be able to just glide through the upper echelons of life. Sometimes just a true product of his upbringing. It made Billy happy to know he knew who Steve really was. Underneath all the pomp and circumstance. A smile bloomed on his features as he looked Billy up and down and whistled.

“Who’s  _ this _ fella now?” Steve joked but his eyes had already gone that slight shade darker. Maybe Billy would have to dress fancy more often. He didn’t have a funny response back though, because really, he had no idea who he was right now. In the past he wouldn’t dream of doing something like this for anyone. Would just laugh in their faces and tell them to fuck off. But for Steve he’d gone to JC Penny and bought a damn white shirt, was stood in the hallway of some rich person party and was about to have the longest night of his adult life.

“I dunno. But his balls feel fuckin’ scrunched up let me tell you.”

Steve gasped like a dramatic asshole, put his hand on his chest like a dame in a period drama. “Mr Hargrove, did you buy  _ underwear _ for me?”

“Bought ‘em. Wearin’ ‘em. Hate ‘em.” He didn’t tack on that JC Penny was having a sale, or that this was how much he was willing to go to impress people that Steve clearly loved but also hated at the same time. Billy was a commando man. “How much do they know about me?”

Steve shrugged a little in his suit, shoulders bouncing slow. “They know that we’re together. I know I told them that. Whether they were listening though I can’t promise.” 

From Steve's stories that sounded about right. Whenever Billy would talk about anything over dinner warm brown eyes would just stare, give their full attention. At first it was weird and a little creepy. Steve would stop eating to just listen rather than doing both at the same time. Like a normal person would. When Billy couldn't stand it anymore, because he felt a bit like a circus attraction, Steve apologised and explained that his parents never listened to a word he said that wasn't about school or, now, work so he made a point to give whoever was speaking his utmost attention.

It was adorably affectionate. But also pretty sad and a clear window into Steve's upbringing.

Steve just smiled warm, warmer than the lights coming from the ballroom, and reached out the small space to thumb the knot in Billy's tie, pulling it a little loose to undo the top button of his new shirt. "You look uncomfortable with them all done up..."

Well, he wasn't wrong there. 

Finally able to breathe a little better, they both walked into the room without another shared word. Okay, Billy could do this, he was good with people. Could be charming and smooth when he wanted to be. Hell, it's how he got through high school and beyond. He could still talk anyone into bed with ease. More often than not he just talked people into buying a fresh set of tires, but the skills were still there in abundance. Steve seemed to stiffen up a little walking through the room, the occasional passing person giving a small head nod as he led the way towards the bar that was seemingly lined with every brand of whiskey and bourbon Billy had ever heard of. Most he couldn't afford even on a good day. But here they all were, just being shown off like everything else. Like the wives in the room just dripping in gold and diamonds, husbands flashing family heirloom watches like they didn't need to be kept in a safe most of the time. Pointlessly flashy.

Steve ordered them both drinks and no money exchanged hands. That was a good sign for later. Billy swirled the liquid around the glass, watching it roll off the perfectly square cubes of ice. He wasn't sure how close they could stand together, certainly knew this wasn't a hand holding event even though it looked like Steve badly needed some form of comfort all of a sudden. Maybe it was because Billy actually knew him that he could see it so well. He knew the man stood next to him wasn't all prim and proper. He looked like he belonged sure, stood proud and tall, kept his chin up. But Billy knew outside of all this, outside of all this glorification of wealth, Steve ate cheap takeout pizza crust first. He rolled about in tatty gym shorts and old shirts. He still wore briefs bought in high school that had holes at the waistband because they were comfortable. He snorted when he laughed at something that really tickled him. Hell, he was  _ ticklish _ . Right around his ribs. Touched just right and Steve would squeal and kick like a schoolgirl getting her pigtails pulled by the cutest boy on the playground.

Billy knew Steve better than anyone else in this whole building. He was sure of it.

"Not that I'm askin' to go already, but how long do these things usually last?" Billy asked, taking a sip of his drink. It was so smooth on the way down it was like drinking silk.

"It's rude to leave before half ten, maybe eleven," Steve answered as he checked his watch, hidden up under a royal blue cuff. "So, five hours?"

Five hours. Billy could do that. He could at least get through dinner then get them the both out of here. That was his secret plan anyhow. Meet the parents, eat, drink some more apparently free booze and leave with Steve in tow. Take them both back to his, get them both into his bed under the window that overlooks the alleyway and back to normal. Fall asleep listening to the traffic rumble below and small little breathy whines that Steve sometimes let out when he was really tired. He nudged Steve's elbow on the bar with a little reassuring smile. He'd take care of this.

In the middle of the grand room were tables. Each one covered in a white tablecloth and as many forks per person as Billy kept housed in his entire cutlery drawer. A few groups had taken up seats once their whole party had come together. It all looked very stiff and formal.

"So a fish knife is the one that looks like'a fish right?" Billy joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. He may be a penguin, but penguins made people happy, and that's all he wanted for Steve. To just put a dumb grin on his face. He settled for a small chuckle instead.

"It goes outside in. Not that it's important but, outside in." Steve spoke with gestures. Making a gap with his hands then bringing them together.  _ Outside in _ .

Billy just nodded. "Uh huh. And is there, like, a spoon I can drop if I just wanna crawl under the table and start blowin' you in those fancy pants?"

Steve's cheeks flushed pink at that, but a slow smirk grew on his lips. Secret. Just for Billy. "Yeah. That's actually the felatio  _ napkin _ though. They usually come with dessert."

Billy made an amused hum and grinned around another sip. "How many thousands 'a dollars 'a finishin' school before they taught you that one?"

Steve opened his mouth to reply, another quick quip no doubt, but his eyes caught something just beyond Billy's shoulder that caused him to stand straighter and the smile to fall from his face. Billy turned his body to follow the gaze and just saw a woman in a long forest green gown, elegant and flowing, dark hair pulled up into a flawless bun, long fingers wrapped around a champagne glass plucked from a tray a waiter was holding. Another boy but this time in a black vest looking increasingly uncomfortable at this woman's attention. Steve just sighed, set his glass on the bar and walked over, talking out of Billy's earshot but whatever was said was enough for the boy to make his escape. Soon enough they were both walking back towards the bar, towards Billy, arm in arm. He stood up properly and took a steadying breath.

“Billy, this is Bella, my mom. Mom, this is Billy.” Steve spoke with a smile on his face but his voice was nervous. But it was okay, Billy knew moms. This would be easy. He slipped into being nothing but charming, wearing a smooth smile, taking Mrs Harrington's hand when offered.

The features shared between mother and son were startlingly similar. The same nose, the same warm eyes, the same thick hair in the same shade. Steve really was a product of good genes.

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” Billy said, polished from years of having to impress on first words alone. The rock on her wedding finger was unavoidable. It looked big enough to be a downpayment on a yacht. The bracelets wrapped around her wrists were nothing to be sniffed at either.

“Is Billy your christian name?”

That question took Billy back a way. Of all the things he’d been expecting to be asked first, that wasn’t it. Steve sighed silently in the background, defeated already. Like he knew this was going to happen, had been praying that it wouldn't. Billy couldn’t lie though. Not outright. Bad first impressions and all that.

“Uh, no. It’s William.”

Mrs Harrington nodded slow and took a long sip of champagne, clearly making up her mind about Billy instantly without another word. He’d expected that at least. First impressions. As much as he’d tried to fit in, look the part, he didn’t belong here. He was an observer of the occasion. Should be gracious to be invited and silent unless spoken too. Being watched and looked down upon lit a small fire in Billy’s gut. He didn’t like being looked down on. By anyone. No matter what. Steve patted his mother’s arm, diverting the attention and taking the fall. It was only really then that Billy noticed just how glassy her eyes were. Like marbles. She was drunk. It wasn’t noticeable in her face or her walk or even her voice but it was definitely there. Practiced sobriety.

Steve said something about them finding their table and took his mother away, leaving Billy by the bar. He asked for a top up in both their glasses before following along to a table of four. Steve made sure, subtly, to sit to Billy's left, put Mrs Harrington directly opposite, leaving one empty chair waiting to be filled. Steve looked awkward sitting, rubbing his knees under the table. It was probably the only time Billy would witness what a Harrington family dinner was like.

God knows he wasn't ever about to show off a Hargrove one.

"So, how was Milan?" Steve asked, still smiling a smile that was so obviously fake and just desperate. Either for attention or for things to go as smoothly as possible Billy couldn't tell yet. He couldn't help but stare a little at the woman opposite. At Steve's mother. Glassy brown eyes and perfect make up. Stare as she just snapped her fingers in the air, flagging down a different waiter for a dry martini before even thinking of answering her son's question.

"Boring darling, you should really know that by now. What does your family do William?"

The sharp turn of direction made Billy's head spin. He wanted to do a number of things. First and foremost grab Steve's hand to stop his nervous fidgeting. Secondly he badly wanted to smoke, was really regretting not having that second one now. And thirdly he wanted to tell everyone in this room exactly where they could go and how far up they could shove it. But Steve gave him hopeful eyes. Apparently this was good maybe? Like even just getting the smallest crumb of attention meant Billy was doing well in her estimation. He sighed silently before answering, trying to work out this chess game.

"Nothin' really. My dad was a security guard. Stepmom works in a pharmacy last I knew."

Mrs Harrington gave an unamused noise, giving more focus to the drink that was placed in front of her, slowly swirling the olives around the clear liquid. Billy grit his back teeth, giving all the will in the world to keep cool. Another deep breath.

_ It's important to Steve. _

The rest of the small talk was painful. Steve just asking questions but not getting very far. He’d have gotten further driving at a literal brick wall than her cold proverbial one. Billy glanced around the room, letting his hand drift across to Steve’s knee. Squeezing it to try and calm him down. All safely hidden under the long table cloth draped over both their laps. God forbid these rich folks see  _ gay people _ amongst them. Billy’s eyes were drifting up towards the chandelier, maybe silently wishing it would fall and crush them all in a horrible Phantom of the Opera style accident... 

A silence fell as the chair on Billy’s right was pulled out and a man sat down without a word. Without an apology for being late. If he even was late. He had a very sensible haircut, black framed glasses and just gave the impression that he was always in a suit. Probably slept in one. His very essence was intimidating. Not aggressive like Neil but it gave Billy the same shivers. The same sickly feeling crawling along his spine, a slow drip of dread. Grey eyes looked Billy up and down once, already unimpressed by the offering on hand. Billy hadn’t even opened his mouth yet. Mrs Harrinton didn’t look at him once, physically turned her body away subtly, tilting towards her son but not focusing on anything. Face turning to stone, taking a much longer sip of her drink.

“Uh, Billy this is Richard. Dad, this is Billy,” Steve introduced, trying not to sound meek but his voice wobbled, barely clinging on. The whole table suddenly felt so much more weighted by his very presence.

God, dinners as a kid must have been a complete nightmare if it was anything like this. 

Billy swallowed his tongue and held his hand out to be polite, the mantra of the night still doing laps around his head. It's important to Steve. It’s important to Steve. It’s important to Steve. The importance of a firm handshake had been instilled into him from an early age. Billy knew he could do that at least, but Mr Harrington still looked unimpressed. Uninterested. 

“Billy,” he hummed deep, rolling an idea around his mind. “William I assume.”

Billy kept his mouth shut and just nodded. Why did rich folks not want to say his name? Was it really that bad? Only Neil called him  _ William _ , and even then that had been the last time he’d been in that house almost five years ago. He was Billy. He wanted to shake these people into realising that and maybe it was more polite to call him by a name he’d chosen for himself, but he didn’t want to start a fight.

_ It’s important to Steve. _

“And what does your family do?” Mr Harrington apparently didn’t make eye contact when he spoke, choosing instead to glance at his watch, the white napkin in a gold ring, a glass of water that was put in front of all of them. Literally anything else but Billy’s face. He could feel Steve next to him starting to sink in his chair. He felt shaky fingers reach out for his own. Billy squeezed them tight. Seconds ticked by like they were soaked in unchanged engine oil.

“My father used to do security. My stepmom’s a pharmacist,” he repeated. There was no indication that Mr Harrington had even been listening.

“And what do you do?” Unamused would be the word used to describe his tone. Apparently that answer hadn’t been good enough. Billy doubted the next one would either.

“I’m a mechanic.”

That answer definitely wasn’t good enough. It didn’t even warrant a response. A noise of acknowledgement. Anything. “And how long have you been friends with Stephen?”

That question got eye contact. It got a lot of things. It got a small sigh from his wife that echoed into a nearly empty highball glass. It got Steve squeezing his fingers tighter and still hidden from public view. It got Billy direct eye contact with cold grey steel. Emotionless and unamused that any of this was even happening. Almost a fight without words.

_ Friends? _

A number of options ran through Billy’s mind. A number of wild ideas that would surely get him kicked out of his godforsaken place for good. Probably arrested. Definitely arrested. But that word stung. They’d been official for months, after a long conversation about where they were going. It had been great! Letting out every little feeling and emotion, knowing they were both on the same page reading from the same book at the same time. It had been a relief almost to know Steve was there too, that it wasn’t just Billy getting swept up in something good that was happening to him for once. That it wasn’t just for the sake of being comfortable. That there was actual real love there being reciprocated and acknowledged. Real happiness and comfort. That conversation, had over Chinese take out with Alien playing in the background, was the first time they'd both muttered the words  _ I love you _ to each other. To have it all swept away by a simple term by someone who clearly didn't even want to attempt to understand was hurtful.

Billy just smiled, stared right back into those grey eyes, and said with full confidence, “Well, we’ve been  _ datin’ _ for like, six, seven months now, so six seven months? Give or take a week or two.”

Mr Harrington hummed in retort. There wasn’t a pitch or cadence to indicate what he was thinking. It was just a noise. Billy’s whole body itched for a cigarette. He didn’t think he could smoke inside. There was probably a separate room for that anyway. God forbid he break etiquette and just light up right there at the dinner table. Instead, he turned Steve’s hand over on his knee, thumbed over his palm firmly. Billy was okay, he could handle this. He could handle this and take care of Steve too. It was okay that their whole relationship this far had just been so offhandedly dismissed. Billy had already made up his mind that these people didn’t matter to him. Only the product of their one time sexual encounter did. And he didn't imagine it had been overly fulfilling. If Steve didn't have his father's jawline like a mirror image Billy could definitely float the idea that maybe Steve's real dad was the pool boy or the mailman or an airline pilot or really just about _anyone_ _else_ other than who he'd been landed with.

Food being served broke the silent stalemate. At least Billy thought it was food. There was barely any of it on the plate put before him. A small tower of… something. Maybe meat? It was hard to tell it was all so small and piled together in a perfect circle. The green stuff on top was definitely lettuce though. He let go of Steve's hand under the table after another reassuring squeeze to eat, following Steve's earlier advice about cutlery to pick the right fork. Not that Billy even cared anymore. These people didn't deserve his effort or his time. The food tasted like nothing really. Maybe it was just from disappointment that really nothing Billy could do would ever make the Harringtons like him. Deep down there had been a small hope that maybe they would. Maybe they'd be nice people after all and would approve of their gay son and his gay boyfriend and their gay lives. But that was far too much to hope for. Billy wondered if they even acknowledged their son’s sexuality, or was that just a dark family secret to be kept hidden away? He could picture Mr Harrington in business meetings, too many stuffy assholes poured into expensive suits and the air thick with cigar smoke, trying to set poor Steve up with a client's daughter like he was a thing to be traded for land and gold. A prize doll to be sold to the highest bidder.

When Billy blinked back into the conversation over an empty plate it felt very much like a business meeting. Mr Harrington grilling his son about names and accounts and contracts. Steve seemed to take it all in his stride. His warm eyes had gone shallow though. Defeated. Maybe just trying to make the best out of a bad situation. This is what family dinners  _ must _ have been like. Billy could so easily picture it. Mom just sat like an aging trophy to one side of the table, drinking glass after glass of wine just to get through the day. Steve getting questioned over and over again about his grades, getting nothing in return about any other topic of conversation. God no wonder he paid such intimate attention to anything Billy said over a meal. This was torture. He decided to take a page out of Mrs Harrington's playbook and spoke quietly to a waiter when he came to clear up everyone's plate.

"Uh, hi, yeah, can I get a top up?" He asked nicely, gesturing towards his almost empty glass. The waiter just nodded and took his plate.

"Do you want me to add it to the table Mr Harrington?"

Billy blinked. He'd have to digest being called that at a later date but it did open an interesting door. Apparently this place ran on a tab system and not an open bar like he'd suspected. A tab system that would no doubt be under Harrington Sr's bank account. Oh that just made things very interesting indeed.

"Uh yeah actually," Billy turned his voice down just a touch lower. He doubted he would be heard anyway but just in case. "What's the most expensive liquor you have?"

"Well, we do offer a fine 1776 King Louis cognac. It's one of our more expensive offerings."

That was all Billy needed to hear.

"Great! Two of those please and, oh, another red for the lady as well I think. Somethin' nice," he smiled as the waiter just nodded with his armful of plates and left to fill the order. Billy just sat back and smirked to himself. 

This night maybe wouldn't be so bad after all.

Steve immediately knew what was up. Saw through Billy's little personal game the second he sipped the new drink placed in front of him. His browns went wide and stared in Billy's direction, who just smiled in return and held up his own glass in a silent cheers. Mrs Harrington looked none the wiser and just drank the wine placed in front of her. 

"Is this what I think it is?" Steve hissed, leaning towards Billy for a short moment. He smelt warm, sandalwood and pine. It was a nice cologne. Steve  _ always _ smelt nice.

"Maybe. Daddy will have to check his credit card bill after the holidays to know for sure," Billy smirked around the rim of the cut crystal glass he was in two minds about slipping into his pocket once it was empty. Steve looked torn between wanting to laugh and curse Billy out for playing with his parents' money like this. He reached out and rubbed Steve's knee under the table again, trying to sooth worry away. It at least got Steve to take another drink.

The fish course was an equally stilted affair with somehow an even smaller portion. Still in a circle and towered up. Some kind of shellfish with orange coloured sauce dotted around the rim of the plate. It looked a bit like a strange constellation and still didn't taste like much. But Billy wasn't about to look this gift horse in the mouth anymore, especially when Mr Harrington drifted over to another table between courses. A probable business associate by the way the two men clapped shoulders like old friends. 

"If I ever end up like him, please shoot me," Steve muttered quietly. Billy was done with hiding for the night when his  _ boyfriend _ clearly needed something good to come out of all of this, and held his hand on the table. Thumbed over his slender fingers. Fuck what these people thought.

"You know the second you do I'm leavin' right?" Billy smiled, giving their joint hands a little shake. "Why do you even care about all this? I mean, your mom's practically asleep in the chair." He gestured across towards Mrs Harrington, who had slumped down considerably after another glass of wine. Steve sighed and let go of Billy's hand for just a moment to make sure she didn't fall out of the chair completely, gave her a little shake to wake her back up. She smiled lopsided and patted Steve's cheek like a dog.

"'Cause I work with my dad everyday. And my mom isn’t always a drunk. We used to be close. We still are sometimes. I guess I still want that all the time. Deep down. She’s different here..." Steve wore a sad expression. Billy could feel how desperate he was to just be acknowledged as their son. Not an employee. Not just someone they saw once or twice year. Their damn son. Billy had wanted that too once, long long ago, before he gave up with the realisation that no matter what he did it would never be good enough. He could have become president and that wouldn't have been good enough for Neil Hargrove.

"I'll look after her for a bit. I'm dyin' for a smoke anyway," Billy offered, leaving his chair and going round to the other side of Mrs Harrington. "Come on, let's get you some air before ya' spew on dessert."

Billy was careful about getting her to her feet, taking her arm and being all the support needed. But once she was up she was away, smiling warmly and pinching Billy's cheek like an affectionate aunt. He might still have a shot at being in with the mother after all. He  _ did _ know moms. Steve looked more than grateful as Billy chuckled and carefully led the way outside, to the unfortunately demonic fountain to sit on the edge. To listen to the gentle splashing of water and to smoke his lungs out. He sat Mrs Harrington first, sitting close by just in case she decided to topple backwards into the no doubt freezing water. She already seemed more sober just getting a lungful of fresh air, away from the stuffy interior and stuffier people. Billy lit up a cigarette and damn near moaned and how good it felt to feel nicotine flooding his brain again. He was careful to blow the smoke away from Mrs Harrington and her expensive dress, which had bunched up a little as she crossed her legs, finding her balance sitting on the cold stone. Her eyes drifted over Billy slowly, he could feel it, every inch being analysed. It was still a surprise when she reached out and ran a hand through his hair, taking out the hair tie and flicking it back to its usual style with a simple wrist movement. Maybe she’d just known what it was like all along. A motherly intuition perhaps.

“Stevie likes you. He’s never brought anyone to these things before. Apart from that girl from his school once.” Mrs Harrington didn’t speak slow, it was more careful and calculated. Thinking about every word before they left perfectly painted ruby lips. Honestly, in the dark, she could pass for stone cold sober. It was a strange performance piece really. Maybe she just acted more drunk than she really was as a way to get out of things like this. An escape. It's easy to be left alone if you look like hassle. Billy just hummed around the filter, taking another much needed drag, blowing out smoke to the stars. “These things are  _ awful _ , aren't they?” 

“I’ve been to funner bar fights,” Billy admitted, not meaning it to be a joke but it dragged a chuckle out of Mrs Harrington. It was certainly better than a scowl. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. She held out her hand, silently asking for a puff. Billy could only be a good kind of maybe future son in law, handing it over without another word.

"Don't tell either of them," she smiled, taking a little drag and gesturing back to the building, the cherry glowing bright in the dark. Billy just winked. Okay, the mom really wasn't the issue here. She was just coping with life the only way she knew how, but Billy had zero desire to win over the patriarch of the family. One out of two was frankly a victory in this situation. He finished up the cigarette when given it back and ground the filter under the heel of his shoe, staying outside for a moment longer just in the quiet. Taking a break like this was a job. Mrs Harrington seemed more than happy to stay put, tapping her pointed heel on the hard stone and playing with her wedding ring. Rolling the rock around and around her finger like she wasn't used to wearing it anymore.

"So, Billy?" Mrs Harrington asked, like she was just getting used to saying that name, rolling it around her tongue. There wasn't a real question beyond.

Billy just nodded. "Only my dad calls me William."

He didn't tack on how much he hated his full name. Brought so many bad memories flooding to the surface. He'd thought about having it legally changed so on every official form and document he'd just be Billy. No ties to the past and having his christian name spat at him from across the room for being late for curfew or being caught under the boardwalk with a boy. Being thrown into bookcases and table edges. Being told he deserved it.

"I wanted to call him Theodore once you know," Mrs Harrington said almost wistfully. Billy felt his brow furrow just a little. She rolled her head towards him, those big brown eyes warm and friendly, only a little glassy now, just like her son's that Billy adored so much. "Of course Richard hated the idea. Obviously. Far too improper apparently. He'll always be my little Teddy bear though…"

Billy had to bite his lip pretty hard to keep the laugh from bubbling out of his throat at such a tender moment. It wasn't that he found the idea ridiculous, and really it was only the drink warm in his stomach that made him want to emote anything at all. But Steve's life would have been incredibly different if he'd been known as  _ Teddy _ .

Teddy. Teddy Harrington. That was going to float around in Billy's brain for a while to come.

Eventually they both made their way back inside, Mrs H needing no aid to slip back into the room like she'd never left, immediately ordering another glass of wine upon sitting down. Steve's smile was a sight for sore eyes. More food had been served but he was sat alone, just moving some kind of brown meat around the plate, bored and uninterested. Billy thumbed his temple before sitting, still not giving a damn about social etiquette and keeping hidden. Billy was proud of who he was and these people should be honoured to have him. He was a penguin no more. He was a tiger wrapped in a rainbow.

"Everything okay?" He asked before he frowned ever so slightly. "Your hair's different."

"I think we came to an understandin' it looks better like this," Billy smiled warm as he could and fluffed his curls for effect. The frown melted off Steve's face, shifted into affection with a gentle smile. Far too gentle for the surroundings.

"I wholeheartedly agree."

The food, again, was pretty tasteless but Billy felt far more comfortable now. He didn't exactly have Mrs Harrington's blessing, but sharing a cigarette was probably as close as he was ever going to get for now. That was good enough. He ordered drinks for the three of them whenever a waiter was around, determined to run up this bill as much as possible, even demanding that each different waiter take a two hundred dollar tip for themselves. Apparently not another soul in the room had ever thought to do that before, because with every fresh tray of drinks Billy got the best of service. It was kind of nice to pretend to be rich for a night. Steve fought it at first, but the second a freshly made pina colada was placed down in front of him he just grinned and shrugged.

"Least I'll still be drunk when my dad sues you into the 90s," he muttered to the drink, wrapping his pink lips around a black straw, at the stage of tipsy where he was leaning down to the glass rather than picking it up. It was adorable really. Billy didn't really care about Mr Harrington. He had a wonderful son, a fox of a wife and more money than sense because all he cared about was swanning around the room, clapping older men on the shoulder and talking about golf scores probably. Stocks and shares. Billy just couldn't understand it, but he was determined to make Steve just not care. Being professional was one thing, but he didn't have to pretend to like the flesh and blood that made him.

One day, maybe, that would sink in.

By the time dessert was cleared away a good amount of alcohol sat warm in Billy's gut, along with what was actually quite a nice, albeit  _ small _ , chocolate cake. Apparently dessert wine and brandy were both things that just happened to rich people without asking and Billy wasn't about to refuse either. He'd loosened another button on his shirt and was quite happy listening to a slightly slurred story from Steve's childhood Mrs H was recanting. Something about crying having a haircut before a summer trip to Italy because eight year old Stevie wanted hair long enough for braids. Because that's what all his girlfriends were excited for and he didn't want to be left out. Steve's face was scarlet with embarrassment but he was still smiling, drunk and comfortable enough to openly hold Billy's hand like they did all the time behind apartment doors. Fingers linked and everything. The room kind of melted away, all that existed was this table and the two people Billy was sharing it with. Mrs H was definitely full of stories she'd been waiting to just unleash upon the right person brought into the family circle. She was halfway through another memory, again in Italy, the first time Steve got drunk at eleven years old at a dinner with her sisters and his cousins, when her lips suddenly went tight and the circle expanded to include one forgotten person.

Mr Harrington walked back into the bubble and popped it without care, looking directly at Steve, who had also gone stiff and let go of Billy’s hand as if it was suddenly made of poison.

That didn’t sit well at all.

“Stephen, I want you to take Harold’s daughter to lunch next week,” he spoke with authority and gestured back to some equally pompous looking old man. Much greyer though, little wire glasses and a bald spot. “She’s blonde. You’ll like her.”

The good time atmosphere that had built up just dropped like a stone in the middle of a ravine. Steve’s shoulders fell and a little happy light inside his eyes just died, like snuffing out a candle. Silent acceptance. Billy reached over to squeeze his forearm gently where it lay on the table, head a little fuzzy from all the alcohol consumed but quickly getting sober again. He could feel the rage building, the fire being stoked, one that he worked so hard on day to day to keep down. He’d been biting his tongue all night, not so much to make a good impression anymore but to not embarrass Steve. Billy didn’t belong here, not by a long shot. But there was only so much he could let bubble up hot and wicked before it threatened to come spilling out of his throat, especially at such a waste of life and opportunity.

It was Mrs H who spoke up though.

“Richard, don’t be a mule. The boys are clearly very happy together, if you had bothered to spend even a small moment with us all evening maybe you would have seen that,” she spoke clear and sharp, holding her half empty wine glass and gently swirling what was inside, all the while staring straight daggers at her husband. The look Steve gave her was almost shock. Maybe she usually didn’t say anything. Billy suspected she didn’t. Probably more than happy to just let things pass by, an easy life. Mr Harrington brought his hands down onto the back of his empty chair, gripping it tight. Oh  _ there _ it was. There was that anger that Billy recognised, that sent that rage licking up his spine and into a primal part of his brain. He squared his shoulders without thinking about it.

These people weren’t Neil. But they may as well have been.

“We both know this is just another one of his _phases_ _darling_ , it’ll pass.” He turned his attention back to his son, eyes pointed, body slipping back into more of a professional stance. “Next Tuesday. You’ll go.”

There wasn’t even a discussion. Just an order. Steve had completely sunk in on himself, whole expression just hollow and gone. Physically here but mentally shut down. It was a coping mechanism. Put yourself out of your body until the threat passes. Billy had never seen Steve like this, so withdrawn and sunken. Like he was five years old and being told off for tracking dirt into the house. That little person who just wants to be good still holding on for dear life inside that maybe one day they’ll hear even a small moment of praise. Steve didn’t nod in agreement or shake his head. He just sat, eyes on an empty glass and slowly melting ice.

And as much as Billy was itching for a fight, to punch Mr Harrington right in his fucking nose and break it into a million small, painful, pieces that would never heal right, he was still trying to better himself. Leave anger in the past where it belonged. He had Steve now; sweet, wonderful, caring, thoughtful, goofy, dorky, unbelievably handsome Steve. He didn’t need to be angry all the time. He didn’t need to start a fight to show that he cared. Billy shuffled his chair closer, rubbed Steve’s suit clad shoulder before gently brushing his fingers just above where that crisp white shirt collar was sitting on his neck.

“Hey, I think we should get outta here…” Billy suggested, being as soft as he could in the current situation. Feeling all twisted up inside he wasn’t entirely sure what kind of tone would have come out. A gentle glow came back to Steve’s eyes. He still kept his head down but Billy knew what he was looking for in those eyes. Billy felt the sigh come up from under his fingertips before Steve raised his head again, glanced over at his mother for what might have been support. She just gave a single nod.

“I think that would be best.”

Together they both stood, only one chair scraping across the wooden floor. Steve straightened out his suit jacket as Billy moved, purposely not giving any attention to Mr Harrington who had just been watching everything like a patriarchal hawk, bent down to Mrs H and kissed her on the cheek. She had clearly been won over, or Billy had been allowed in. Maybe a small mix of the two. Either way, she wasn’t all that bad. She smiled and grabbed Billy’s arm before he could move away.

“Take good care of him,” she said, hushed. Just for the two of them even though they were being watched. It could easily have been a threat, maybe that was mixed in there too.

Billy just nodded. “Everyday ma’am.”

They shared a smile before Billy was back upright and going to take Steve’s arm to lead him out of all this. The plan formed at the beginning of the night was still very much in play here. Except now there would most definitely be a stop for burgers. Or maybe pizza. Or both fuck it why not? Steve stayed firm to the spot for just a moment and looked his father square in the eye. Neither man backed down from the intense glare across the empty table. 

“Billy isn’t a  _ phase _ . The same way Charlie wasn’t a  _ phase _ and the same way Nancy wasn’t a  _ phase _ . I'm not asking you to accept it, because I know you won’t, I’m just asking you to be civil towards the man I  _ love _ . He is not just a  _ friend _ . He is my  _ partner _ .”

A silence fell. The rest of the ballroom chattered like the bomb hadn’t just been dropped. Steve wasn’t backing down. Not this time. Billy spotted Mrs H grinning behind her glass, rooting for her son without words. Mr Harrington wasn’t backing down either, but he clearly knew when to table a discussion for a later date. One with less eyes and judgement. He didn’t say a word. Not a damn word. Steve moved first, slamming his hand around Billy’s palm to walk them both out of the room and back into the real world. At the first breath of cold night air Steve shook, almost trembled as adrenaline clearly left his body as quickly as it had arrived. Billy stayed quiet for a moment, patted around his pockets for his cigarettes, lit up two without asking and handed one over. They both stayed muted for a moment, smoke filling the space around them. Billy wanted to ask a million questions. Mostly why Steve’s dad was one of the worst people he’d ever met and how the fuck could he stand to work with such an asshole everyday. But Billy knew the answer to those questions. It was the same answer as to why he didn’t run away from home when he could have. Could never have been dragged out here and stayed in California, lived under the boardwalk with his bare belongings and made do somehow.

Family will make you crazy. 

“So,” Billy broke the silence first, blowing smoke out of his nose as he worked the tie off from around his neck and stuffed it into his pocket, “Charlie huh?”

Steve’s shoulders sighed, but in a good way. The tension alleviated. It was just the two of them out here. And the demonic fountain, but she didn’t have ears. He took another inhale before speaking. “Don’t. He was the goth boy in the neighbourhood and I wanted to make my parents mad. It wasn’t anything serious.”

Billy hummed through a grin, not quite believing that story but willing to let it drop. He finished up his cigarette and ground the filter underneath his heel. “So I’m thinkin’, we pick up some food, head back to mine, and spend all of tomorrow forgettin’ this happened?”

Steve smiled warm, finishing up his cigarette too and flicking what was left towards the fountain. Lips found Billy’s cheek in the dark as a hand curled around his wrist. “Best thing I’ve heard all evening.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr page.](https://bird-in-a-cage.tumblr.com/) Come ask me stuff! Headcannons more than welcome!


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